Base camp freedom, p.8
Base Camp Freedom, page 8
She replied, “It was great! Everybody was the same, except my sister is going to have another baby and my oldest brother got a job with the local refinery. How was your leave? I missed you so much!”
“Other than being glad to see everyone, it was boring. And I missed you too.”
Linda gave me a look like she was seeing a crazy person and said, “Boring? Jim, what’s boring about being home?”
I told her about not having anything to do, how all my friends were working or at school, and how everything seemed so small.
She shook her head in amazement and said, “Mama and I never seemed to be able to stop talking. Poor Papa was hardly able to get a word in. I just don’t get you, Jim Hawkins. How can spending time with your family be boring?”
Maybe I’m the one who is crazy. In any case, it was great seeing Linda again.
I let her know I had told my Mom about her. Linda was instantly curious about my Mom’s reaction to the news.
“Mom would like to meet you. I’m not sure she was expecting me to fall in love with a Hispanic who happens to be Catholic, though.”
Linda seemed a little miffed with that news, and I was sorry I’d even mentioned it. They say “honesty is the best policy,” but they also say “silence is golden.”
“Did you tell your parents about me?”
“Yes, I told them all about you, and Mama made me promise to bring you to Texas the next time we take leave.”
Chapter 12
Fort Barrow
Linda and I managed to get adjacent seats on the flight to Fairbanks. From there we caught a commuter airline to Fort Barrow. Several other marines were also on the commuter airline, but Linda and I spent the whole trip closely huddled with one another, catching up on what we did during our leave.
As we disembarked the small plane at Fort Barrow, I immediately noticed the cold weather. It was a bone-chilling cold that set us shivering in spite of wearing field jackets. Inside the small terminal, we got our duffel bags and began looking for transportation.
A sign directed us to a military bus parked outside. The other marines joined us and we quickly boarded the bus.
It was a slow drive to the base. Fortunately, the heater was working and we were comfortable. At the gate, a guard boarded the bus and scanned our embedded chips before allowing us to proceed.
In the administrative building, we were issued cold-weather clothing: insulated boots with felt linings, face mask, goggles, sleeping bag, shovel, shelter, and other items needed for spending time in the field. It was nice not being yelled at as we stood at the counter and drew our equipment. Once again I was glad to be away from basic training. After everyone had been issued their gear, we were directed to a classroom where we received instructions on how to use the cold-weather gear and how to avoid frostbite.
During our in-processing, we met Captain Raymond DeWeiss, the Cold Weather School Commandant.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Fort Barrow. During the next three weeks, you will attend one of the most rigorous courses in the marines. You will receive refresher training in squad tactics and will have an opportunity to train as a team. The people sitting around you are the permanent members of your squad. As an added benefit, you will get acclimated to a colder environment. After this training course, all of you will know what it means to work and live in cold weather. This training will help prepare you for your next assignment.”
We were directed to the mess hall where we ate dinner. Afterward we assembled in our barracks where formal introductions were made.
Corporal Hammond said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m very pleased to have been chosen to be your squad leader. As way of introduction, let me tell you a bit about myself. Afterward I ask that each member of our squad do the same.
“My name is Jack Hammond. I grew up in a rough neighborhood of Ontario. My father was a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang, and, I’m told, was shot and killed when a drug deal fell through. At the age of nine, my mother and I moved to Alberta where she got a job working as a waitress. After some adjustment to a new school and environment, I joined a karate club. This turned out to be one of my best decisions. Master Chen became my surrogate father, and I was never tempted to follow my natural father’s footsteps into a life of crime. In fact, I earned a fourth-degree black belt in Taekwondo and represented my dojo at Olympic trials. Following basic training, I served as an embassy guard in Transvaal. Afterward I was sent to Fort Benning, Georgia, for special weapons training. My second tour was spent serving on the presidential detail in Washington DC. After that tour of duty, I was promoted to corporal and sent to leadership training at Fort Myers. Okay, enough about me; your turn.”
I was impressed with CPL Hammond’s background. It really helps when your leader is someone you can admire and respect. Looking around the room, I noticed that others appeared similarly impressed.
One by one the members of our squad introduced themselves.
“Hi, my name is Nora Jenkins. I’m from Ann Arbor, Michigan, and I’ve been trained as a medical technician. My hobbies are sky diving and fishing but not necessarily at the same time.” Nora’s comment was greeted with good humored laughter from all. “Oh, I’m also engaged to a wonderful man back home. He asked me to marry him while I was on leave. We plan to marry after I complete our next assignment, which will seem like an eternity for me.”
“I’m Sam Higuera from Palo Alto, California. Like Nora, I am a medical technician recently graduated from the San Antonio Medical School. My hobbies are surfing and snowboarding. I am looking forward to being able to shred some slopes or surf some big waves during our next tour of duty.”
“Good evening. I’m Francine Calloway from Ontario. My specialty is power generation. And my hobby is building and racing solar-powered cars. I graduated from the University of Fraser Valley and was exempted from attending technical school after marine basic training. I did get to take leave just before arriving here and want you to know that Ontario is cold too!”
“Hi. I’m Beth Joiner from Fairbanks, Alaska. I’m your friendly oxygen generation specialist and I take my job seriously. Prior to joining the marines, I attended the Alaska Vocational Technical Center at Seward where I studied power plant operations. After basic training, I completed oxygen generation specialist training at the Naval Submarine School in Connecticut. My hobbies are reading, camping, hunting, and fishing.”
“Hello, Marines. My name is Frank Chen from New York City, home of the Yankees! I recently graduated from the Army’s Ordnance School at Fort Lee, Virginia. My specialty is automotive mechanics to include maintaining power generation systems. My hobby is motorcycle racing and I do my own bike maintenance. I will be your other power generation specialist.”
“My name is Ronald Springer. Please call me Ron. I’m from Provo, Utah. Beth and I recently completed oxygen generation training at Groton, Connecticut. My hobby is competitive shooting with high-powered rifles. I also enjoy hunting, skiing, hiking, and camping out.”
“Hello. My name is Suzanne Dupree. I’m from Long Beach, California, and am happy to be assigned to this squad. My specialties are hand-to-hand combat and weapons.”
Suzanne was a beautiful woman. The male squad members exchanged looks and we gave her a loud “ooooh.”
Suzanne grimaced at us and continued. “After graduating high school I learned Japanese-style Shotokan karate and have earned a third-degree black belt. After completing basic training, the marines sent me to Fort Benning, Georgia, where I received my weapons training. I enjoy going to the beach and working out. After the rude comments some of you have just made, my next hobby may be teaching you men how to show respect.”
This drew a laugh from several and Frank said he wanted to be first.
Linda said, “Down, boy. I’m sure you’ll get your turn at being humiliated.” Then she said, “Hello, everyone; my name is Linda Sanchez and I’m from the great state of Texas! The marines noticed that I love to talk and made the logical decision of designating me as a communication specialist. I’m looking forward to many conversations and working with each of you.”
That drew a big cheer from the squad. I could tell that Linda had quickly become a favorite.
Linda added, “My hobbies are reading, riding horses, cooking, and working out.”
Everybody turned my way as I struggled to think of something clever to say. “Hi, ya’ll. My name is Jim Hawkins and I’m from Mississippi. As you have noticed, Linda is the outgoing member of our communications team; I’m the introverted one. My hobbies are running, reading, and hiking.”
The introductions being complete, Corporal Hammond said, “I want you to know that everyone here has something in common; each of you graduated in the top of his or her specialty classes! Again, I’m proud to have been chosen as your squad leader. I’m confident we will be successful in whatever the marines give us to do.”
After a short bull session speculating on the upcoming three weeks of training, we turned in. I hated having to sleep alone. It had been more than three weeks since Linda and I had left Goodfellow Base, but our barracks at Fort Barrow were the open bay style (one large sleeping area), and everybody had his or her own bunk. Linda must have had similar thoughts because she gave me a wry grin and a wink as we got into our separate beds. I fell asleep thinking about how wonderful it felt holding Linda.
Our first day of training was mostly spent in the classroom. That afternoon, we took a five-mile hike to help us get acclimated to the cold and to break in our gear.
After returning to barracks, we got cleaned up for dinner.
Linda said, “Beth, I’ve always wanted to visit Alaska and now we’re actually here! Since you’re from Alaska, what’s your favorite place to visit?”
“That’s hard to say because there are so many beautiful sights to see. One of my favorites is Glacier Bay. I’m fascinated watching big pieces of ice break away and creating huge splashes as they fall into the sea. You see, birds feed there because the falling ice seems to bring fish near the surface. I also love Ketchikan, with its beautiful harbor and authentic Indian village. Those places are best visited during the summer.”
“Why did you join the marines?” I asked.
“I was getting over a failed marriage and needed to get away and start a new life. Roy and I were just out of high school. Our marriage lasted all of six months.”
“Do you mind my asking what happened?” Linda asked.
“It’s been over for several months. I can’t believe so much has happened since I joined the marines. Oh yeah; about Roy. I caught him cheating with another girl from our high school class. I thought she was just being friendly—hanging around our apartment and all. I guess it was only natural she and Roy began playing ‘house’ whenever I went to work at the restaurant.”
“How did you catch them?”
“I was stripping the bed one day when I found a pair of panties that didn’t belong to me. Rather than confront Roy, I borrowed a camera from a friend and set it up in the bedroom. It wasn’t long before I had all the evidence I needed to get a quickie divorce and gain custody of all of our possessions, including his truck, guns, and his hunting dogs.”
“That was really clever of you setting up the camera. What did you do with all that stuff?”
Beth laughed and said, “I gave power of attorney to my older sister, who hates Roy with a passion. I agreed to split everything with her fifty-fifty when she sold his stuff at auction—what was I going to do with all his junk? She told me Roy was fit to be tied when his favorite dog was sold. The Sheriff had to escort him away from the auction. I sent him a condolence card a few weeks later. I reminded him that he should have never cheated on me.”
“What about the girl Roy was seeing?”
“Well, I heard that the little tramp left Roy and took up with the guy who brought his truck!”
Each day was similar to the first—a couple of hours in the classroom after breakfast and the remainder of the day spent outdoors doing heavy physical stuff.
During the first weekend, we got our gear and rations and were driven about twelve miles to a wooded area in a small valley where we set up a campsite for the weekend. This weekend gave Corporal Hammond a chance to check us out. It turned out that Joiner had the most experience with cold-weather camping. She said that her father took the family camping a few times each year during the winter. Boy, I’m glad she was in our squad. I had no problem taking advice from that woman. She really knew her wilderness survival skills.
Since there were five women and five men in our squad, Linda and I had no problem arranging to be paired in two-man tents. That evening I couldn’t wait to get my arms around her.
We were picked up Sunday afternoon and driven back to the fort.
On Monday morning I got a tray of food and sat down with Ron and Frank. They were having a lively conversation about big-game hunting.
Frank said, “Man, I don’t understand how you can shoot a deer even at long range. I’ve seen nature films of wild animals and could never understand how a hunter could take the life of an innocent animal.”
Ron replied, “It’s not hard. My father died and my mother became the sole breadwinner. We grew up very poor. My brother and I killed animals for food. It was either that or stand in line for government handouts. We supplemented our food by adding meat to the table.”
I asked, “What is the longest shot you ever took?”
“Oh, I guess it was about five thousand feet. It was midmorning one October and there was no wind. I spotted a mule deer standing on a ridge. He was grazing when I spotted him. I didn’t want to miss so I got down on the ground, laid my rifle across a rock, and aimed very carefully before firing. All it took was one shot. The hardest part was getting him back to the house. Luckily my brother was with me and he helped me bring it home.”
Frank said, “I can understand your family needing food, but I don’t think I could ever kill a helpless animal.”
“It’s amazing how hunger can change a person’s priorities.”
Ron looked over at me and asked, “Jim, have you ever killed an animal?”
I replied, “My family’s not big on hunting. I inherited a shotgun at the age of twelve and killed a few rabbits and some quail. I guess the greatest number of animals I killed was dogs and cats.”
Frank said, “Dogs and cats—are you sick?”
“No, I don’t think so. In the country, some people get rid of their unwanted pets by taking them miles from home and dropping them beside the road. I guess they’re hoping somebody will adopt their pet. At any rate, they get rid of their problem by dumping their animal near someone else.”
“So why don’t they take their pet to an animal shelter?”
“There are no animal shelters in some rural areas of our great country. In the absence of shelters, some people take their animal to the veterinarian and have them euthanized, but that costs money. Dumping is cheaper. You’d be surprised at the number of people who don’t mind throwing their dog or cat out of a car.”
“So how do you fit in?”
“Most people are understandably squeamish about killing pets. So when the neighbors found out about me, they would call and ask for my help.”
“I know I’m going to regret asking, but what exactly did they find out about you?”
“That it doesn’t bother me to kill dogs or cats.”
“That’s disgusting! How could you kill a helpless dog or cat?”
“It’s simple; you look down the barrel and pull the trigger.”
“Why would you voluntarily kill pets?”
“I figured it was more humane to kill the animal than do nothing and let it starve or get run over by a truck. On top of that, neighbors paid me to get rid of their problem. Not much but enough to buy shotgun shells plus a little extra.”
“You give the impression of being this shy, introverted guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly. But if you are telling the truth about killing those pets, you’re one cold-bloodied SOB! I don’t understand you, man.”
I smiled and replied, “Well, now you boys have a dilemma. Am I a heartless son of a bitch or one of the best storytellers you’ll ever meet?”
I asked Frank, “What did you do before joining the marines?”
“I worked in a clothing factory in New York. My job was cutting trouser material. It comes in huge rolls. Spreaders unroll and stack the material on large tables and automated cutting tools cut patterns of different sizes. I programmed the cutting tools.”
“Why did you decide to enlist?”
“Since I couldn’t afford college, I was stuck in that dead-end job. Without a degree, I could never have moved up in the company. My folks wanted more for me so I decided to join the marines and qualify for a tuition grant.”
“What do you plan to study in college?”
Frank looked at me and said, “I was going to study nuclear engineering but I may change my major to communications. After all, if somebody like you can make it through communication school, it must be an easy field of study!”
I felt my face getting hot and knew my cheeks were red at being teased by Frank. He nailed me so quickly I didn’t have time to retort.
Both Frank and Ron were laughing at me when Linda walked up and said, “Are you boys picking on Jim again? Hawkins is from Mississippi, and they’re known for their slow-walking and slow-talking nature. Now don’t confuse that with stupid—that would be a big mistake on your part. Come on, Jim. I can’t ever leave you alone without you getting into trouble!”
As I meekly got up and followed Linda out of the mess hall, their laughter seemed to grow louder. At that moment I decided I had to learn how to be quicker with repartee; otherwise everyone would start calling me dumb, clod, hick, or a hundred other names.
